


Breaking the Habit

by usedupshiver



Series: Drowning Sorrows [5]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Loki Feels, Loki-centric, M/M, Smut, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/pseuds/usedupshiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it becomes clear that some sorrows are just impossible to drown, Loki gets to see a glimpse of the man behind the iron.<br/>It's no longer all fun and games...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (It's not really FrostIron if there are no feels or issues and no angst. So, we all knew this was coming...)
> 
> (Also - the obvious soundtrack for this part: [Breaking the Habit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=acgvRle07GI) )

Tony was already drunk when Loki arrived at Stark Tower this night, later than he usually did. 

Not very drunk - Loki had seen him worse - but there was a strange mood to the man. A bitter twist to the lips, something defensive about the slightly pulled up shoulders. Loki could make out tense thigh muscles even through the fabric of his pants. His movements were stiff and sharp, and dark shadows were gathering under his eyes, as if he had been awake for so long that sleep had forgotten all about him.

Every word was a wry joke, but none of it seemed to stem from his usual amusement at anything and everything. The wit was as sharp and bitter as his attempt at a smile. 

Loki found himself keeping a distance between Stark and himself, unsure about this new behaviour.

The man seemed to notice. He came to sit by Loki on the couch, a hand running over his armoured shoulder.

”You do know I still want you out of that armour, right?”

Loki turned to glare. ”I had so hoped we were done with the tedious nagging.”

”You're just shy. You'll get over it.”

”Give it a rest, Stark.” Loki got to his feet, annoyed. The man's twitchy movements were getting on his nerves.

But Tony didn't, of course. Instead he reached up to slide his hand in under the leather falling across Loki's thighs, grabbing at him.

Something about it all just set Loki's teeth on edge. Not the touch in itself, that he didn't mind. Not the fact that Stark had initiated it either. No. It was the look on his face that did it.

The man's eyes were glossy, his mouth slack. But deep inside, he knew he should back off, and he _wanted_ to back off, Loki could see it. Still Stark's hand kept snaking in under his armour, and it felt like it was trying to cling to his bare skin.

This was not drunken arousal.

This was plain need, so intertwined with fear they were one and the same. 

And Loki's instinct was to close up and turn away, from all of it. Turn and run.

So he did.

Loki grabbed the man's wrist and pulled the hand away, perhaps harder than he had intended to, judging by the little wince. He still made the grip a bit harder, for emphasis. Then he let go. He really didn't want to hurt the man, after all.

Wait...?

He didn't?

He turned the thought over in his mind and found truth on all sides of it.

Of course, he had noticed when harming Stark had stopped being a priority. When he no longer wished to beat him bloody. Push him down, make him kneel until his knees cracked from the pressure of it. Send him flying... But he had failed to notice when this wish _not to_ had surfaced.

Well, wasn't that just plain disturbing?

_Unbearable._

In a rush, Loki was on the mortal. One hand on his throat, the other on his shoulder, he ripped the man from his seat, and in a sweeping motion had Stark's back pressed against the closest wall. He felt his grip on the convulsing throat grow firmer. He remembered the feeling of this, from before. From gripping the man in burning rage. From peacefully resting his hand there, with no darker motivations.

Now, he was moving in the gray expanses of emotional nomansland that were both, and neither.

He was angry. But this time with himself, for letting this infuriating mortal make him... What? Care? No. No way in Hel did he _care_!

For letting the mortal _distract him_!

He should be running, hiding, finding an even deeper hole to burrow in, cover up, disappear. He should most definitely not be here, keeping close to this enemy of his.

Stark was staring up at him, face gray with shock, the wide eyes very dark against the pallor. Loki could feel the frantic pulse, all these fragile bones and shivering tissues. He knew that if he increased the pressure of his fingers just slightly, he could stop the flow of blood that wildly beating heart was pumping through the mortal, whose mortality felt more apparent than ever. Harder than that, or more sharply, and he could crush everything in his hand.

But for now, he was simply holding Stark in place. Roughly and threateningly, yes, but not doing any damage.

”Enough, Stark!” Snarl, growl, hiss, bite; his voice was all of it. ”I have had _enough_ of you!”

The eyes in front of him grew even wider, and seemed to shine with liquid.

With a harsh movement, Loki pulled his hands off the man. He saw the mortal slide down the wall, slump on the floor, before he turned sharply away and stalked towards the windows. He was preparing to step through the glass, into the night, disappear, dissolve, and never return, when...

”Wait!” Stark's voice was a broken, destroyed thing that sounded like it hurt coming out of him.

And it actually made Loki stop, his left hand already tense and lifted in the beginning of the gesture that would carry him out of this place. Because he knew that what he heard was not done by his hand. This wasn't a bruised windpipe talking. This was something else. Something much deeper.

”Wait.” The voice was a bit softer this time, when Stark noticed he was still there. 

Then Loki heard movement, and raised his hand higher, a silent warning that was not lost on the mortal.

”All right! I'm not getting up. All right? Just...” An audible swallow. ”Just, don't leave.”

Loki didn't. But he didn't turn either. Didn't move a muscle or say a word. Just waited, to hear a reason not to step into the night. If one would come. He knew Stark was great at talking, and horrible at actually saying things. But he could wait. 

And Stark talked. A lot. It all came out in chopped up parts, short beats between each of them.

”I guess I messed up. Again.” A shaky sigh. ”Yeah, I tend to do that.”

”I'm just bad at... Things.”

”Just… Say something. Anything?”

“Please?”

”There, happy now? You made me say please. I bet I hate saying that almost as much as you do."

“I don’t… I… Could you at least turn? Look at me?”

This pause lasted longer, with Stark waiting for a movement.

“I’ll be taking that as a no then, I guess.”

”Fuck.”

”All right. Shit. I don't know how to say this. At all. It's too... Messed up.”

”Or I am.”

”I don't even know.”

Another silence.

”Idon'twantyoutoleavemeallright?”

A deep breath and a choked laugh.

”I _am_ messed up. But I just don't.”

”I'll stay away, keep my hands to myself, you keep the armour on as long as you damn well please and all, but I just don't want you leaving.”

”Even though I don't even want to not want that.”

”Wait. Did that come out right?”

”Whatever.”

”Just, stay. You can keep standing just like that. That's fine.”

”But you know what? I don't think you want to leave. If you did, you would have. You do whatever the fuck you want, right? And you are still here? So I think that means something.”

”You just keep showing up all randomly, and it's... Messing with me. Not gonna lie. Because it's been some of the best nights I've had in...”

”Yeah. Anyway.”

”You come and go as you please. Because... That's you. And with the hiding and all. And, fine... It's all right. It's just messing with me.”

”But I still really believe you don't want to leave. Or stop coming here.”

”Really.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I’m not, am I?”

”You don’t have to turn, but tell me if I’m wrong.”

"You're not." Loki's voice surprised himself; he had not intended to speak just then.

“Then -“

”I'm not leaving, Anthony.” He had not intended to say this either. But he knew the man was right; if he truly had wanted to leave, he would never have stopped. For anything.

He was almost sure he heard a sob at that. Almost.

Loki let his sill tense, lifted hand fall to his side, and turned.

Tony was still on the floor by the wall. On his knees, hands hanging limp between his thighs. He was pale, his face was drawn, the eyes just dark hollows.

Loki walked back through the room, bent down and as gently as he could, lifted the man to his feet in front of him. Stark didn't even look up. He just leaned slightly forward, and rested his forehead against Loki's breastplate. The man seemed completely wrung out.

How long had he been awake – and drinking – before Loki arrived?

Too long.

Loki lifted an arm and placed it around his shoulders. For a brief moment he held the man closer to himself. Then he used the arm to guide Stark back to the couch, to sit them both down. 

Tony all but tipped over, curled up on his side, and placed his head on Lokis thigh. He was asleep within seconds.

For a long time, Loki sat motionless and looked down at the limp, defenseless form. The untidy head on his leg. In the corner of Tony's eye, he saw a tear glinting in the light. So, he hadn't imagined the sob, then.

He could never truly say why he did what he did next, not even much later, but he never felt he could do anything different.

Very carefully he placed his boots on the table in front of him, sliding down just slightly on the seat, and then he leaned back and made himself comfortable as best he could without disturbing the man sleeping by him. Although Ragnarök might possibly have passed Stark by unnoticed as it was; he was more or less unconscious. And then Loki placed a hand over the head in his lap, gently moving the long fingers through Tony's hair until his own head fell against the backrest.

For the first time in forever, Loki slept in someone else's company.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki woke with a start the next morning, still sitting on the couch, and for a terrifying moment feeling completely and utterly confused.

Why was the light so bright? Why was there sunlight? None of his secret, safe, hidden burrows knew of sunlight. Why was the seat so soft? Why did his neck hurt so badly? Why was Stark sitting next to him, staring at his face as if he suddenly had three eyes?

Oh.

Stark.

He remembered.

”You really didn't leave.” Stark's voice was gravelly from sleep. He must have just woken up as well.

”I told you I wouldn't.” Loki sighed, rubbing his stiff, sore neck.

”Yeah, because you always tell the truth. Making promises. Keeping them. I forgot that's what you're known for around here.”

”I am not known for such things anywhere. That does not make me completely incapable of sincerity, however. Despite popular belief.”

Tony didn't seem to listen to him. Not really. He was obviously also remembering the night before, and the bitter twist to his mouth was settling into place again.

”Well, then I guess I have an audience for this morning's walk down 'awkward and embarrassing memory lane'. That's just... Wonderful.”

Tony was angry now, Loki sensed it. Angry and hurt and... Something. Something Loki failed to name. 

That open window straight into the need and fear at the core of him, it was gone now, carefully boarded up. Only the fresh layer of bitterness showed where it had been.

And all at once, something was blindingly clear in Loki's mind. A question suddenly answered, truly.

”I understand now. Why you are so intent upon me removing my armour.”

”Lok', I don't -”

”It is because you hope that will make you feel safe to remove yours.”

Stark turned his head in a slow, stiff motion and stared. ”In case you didn't notice, I'm not wearing my armour.”

Loki frowned. ”Enough with the stupid act, Stark. It really doesn't suit you. Of course you are wearing your armour. As we all do.” 

The mortal became still as a statue.

”You know full well I am not talking about the iron one.” Loki leaned forward, catching his suddenly restless eyes. ”The one you use to keep everyone and everything out. Very effectively. But the one you wear beneath, the one you designed to keep yourself together.”

Stark swallowed. ”Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Still shielding himself behind the bitter surface, even though it was rapidly falling apart.

”But that will not be enough, Stark. You know this, do you not? What you will have realized by now, it that even if I remove this”, Loki tapped his fingertips against his breastplate, ”I will still be equally armoured. Were I to strip myself naked as a newborn, you would feel no more safe in dismantling your defenses than you do at this very moment.”

Tony blinked. He opened his mouth, protests and arguments almost visible as they twisted and turned behind his face. Then he pressed his lips together in a thin line. His shoulders fell slightly.

”You are just one fucking perceptive piece of shit, aren't you?”

”So I have been told.”

”Figures.” The man placed his elbows on his knees, and his face in his shaking hands. ”Yeah, well, that's that then. This was just a spectacularly awful conversation, and I haven't even had my coffee yet.” He sat up straight, not looking at Loki. ”Thanks for the pillow. I might have left some stains on your pants, you know, drooling in my sleep. Other than that, you're good.”

He stood up, groaned and put a hand to his head as he started walking towards the elevator, talking over his shoulder. 

”It's been weird and amazing and frustrating and confusing and all that, so, well. Bye. I guess I'll see you never.”

”Oh, so _now_ you want me gone?” Loki knew it was cruel. 

Of course the man didn't want him to leave and never return. He knew that as sure as anything. Stark had never lifted a hand against him. Had even lied, by omission, about Loki's whereabouts. _To Thor._ He had begged on his knees for Loki to stay with him when he was falling to pieces. Of course he didn't want him to leave.

This was just the armour talking. 

And Loki knew he wanted to stay. Why? Well, because he _had_ stayed. That was enough.

Stark stopped by the elevator doors, and half turned to glance at him. ”It's not like I invited you in the first place. Not really. I owed you a drink. You've had plenty. Done a really solid job of messing me up in the process, too. I'd say we are about finished here.”

”And I'd say we are not.”

Loki stood and walked over to Tony with long strides, and the man watched with wide eyes as he came closer. The perceived threat of the approaching dark figure made him press his back against the wall, so Loki stopped just out of reach.

”I told you, the first night, that I prefer you without the armour. But now I see it doesn't really make that much of a difference. It is all the same.” He made a gesture that would attempt to sum up the man in front of him. ”In the iron one, you held me off and shot me down. And in this, you would do the same.”

Stark seemed lost for words. For once.

”You forget, however, that I just got back on my feet and came back for more.” Loki's smile was crooked. ”So forget the goodbyes. You'll not get rid of me that easily, Stark.”

Tony stared. ”Oh my god”, he groaned, slowly sinking to his knees.

Once, the sight of Anthony Edward Stark, the Iron Man, kneeling broken at his feet would have been a triumphant victory.

But this day was not that day.

Loki took the last step forward, and knelt down in front of him, his longer legs almost astride Stark's. Then he placed his arms around the man's slumped shoulders, and pulled Tony to his chest.

For a moment, the mortal was still against him. Then Stark's arms slipped around his studded waist and pulled him even closer.

”You perceptive piece of shit.” It was almost muffled against the leather.

And Loki could only laugh. But he did it kindly, softly, down into Tony's untidy hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (You all survived the feels? Good. Because the reward is smut. Enjoy.)

Loki was standing in what had come to be ”his spot” by the huge windows, his hands lightly clasped behind his back, looking out over the endless city, when he heard the elevator moving behind his back.

He was...

Well, shit.

_(As Tony would have phrased it. Why was the inside of his head starting to sound more and more like the mortal?)_

He might as well be honest with himself - he was nervous. 

Two days since the horrible night and revealing morning after. Two days away from the man, attempting to make his mind up about what to do next, and still he was all nerves. What was he _doing_ to himself?

As the elevator arrived, doors opening, he almost changed his mind, leaving before he was spotted.

Loki could hear Stark walk into the room, and then come to a sliding halt as he noticed the unfamiliar shape outlined by the fading daylight falling in through the pane of glass.

”Well excuse me, but who the hell are you? And why didn't JAR -”

Loki turned around.

He was wearing his own version of the graphite gray three piece suit he had seen on Tony before, but over a shirt that was a dark green instead of shining silver. Black tie, polished shoes, hair unusually tidy, brushed back from his face.

In the three seconds that followed, Loki almost lost count of all the expressions passing by on Stark's face.

There was recognition, surprise, shock, recognition again (probably of the suit, that time), realization, and finally - the widest, most delighted smile Loki had ever seen on the man.

”And here I thought _I_ made that look good.”

”You did. That is why I chose it.” Loki was unable to hold back a grin. ”And I suspected you would agree that imitation is a form of flattery.”

”I would, actually.” He let out a laugh, and started walking again. ”You really do know me too well already.”

Tony stopped about an arm's length from Loki, studying him carefully from head to foot, still smiling. The closer inspection didn't seem to disappoint him.

”Damn”, he whispered. ”It's... Well, it's weird seeing you in something other than the armour. I'll admit it. But definitely not in a bad way. The gray is just... Shit. Have your eyes always been that shade of green?”

”Not always.” It came out with a smile, though. Which was a new and strange thing; to think of the monster under his skin and still be able to smile.

Stark chuckled. ”Yeah, well. Besides that.”

”Then yes.”

”Shame on me for not noticing, then.”

The man raised his eyebrows, questioningly, as he lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers. Just as he had done that first curious night.

Just as he had that night, Loki hesitated. But only for a moment. Then he nodded his permission.

The hands were much more calm and gentle this time, lifting his arm to caress the rich wool, and touch the cuff of the green shirt. When he noticed the cufflinks in the shape of silver snowflakes, the mortal chuckled again, and then moved around him to feel the way the jacket perfectly fit his wide shoulders and back. This time he didn't put his arms under Loki's to feel his front, but completed the circle around him. 

He smiled up at Loki. ”So. That's really just you, under there? Nothing else?”

”Nothing else.”

Loki reached for his hand, and lifted it to place it flat over his chest. Where the breastplate had always been before, there was just skin and muscle and bone beneath the fine fabrics. And a heartbeat beneath that.

”Now that's... Something”, Stark mumbled.

”I should hope so.”

With the hand still on Loki's chest, Tony lifted the other one and slid it in under the black hair, to place it on Loki's neck. Urging the taller man down as he reached up, Stark tilted his own head out of the way, and kissed him.

It was surprisingly soft, but it still seemed to burn him, even in this form. 

Loki didn't mind.

* * *

Tony was adamant that Loki in a suit was an event that called for a celebration. So he opened a bottle which gave a sharp _pop!_ that made Loki startle slightly, as it had been so unexpected.

Then Loki was handed a flowerlike glass on a tall, delicate stem. The liquid in it looked like it was simmering, boiling, but since the glass was cool in his hands he guessed it was not. The odd bubbles did sting his tongue, but not in an unpleasant way.

Sipping from the glass, Loki wandered back to the couch. He enjoyed the casual feel of leaning back in the seat in these softer clothes. The nervousness had faded slightly, he no longer felt quite as exposed as he had before.

He might get used to this. Actually. Which came as somewhat of a surprise.

When Tony came over to join him, he walked up to Loki, pushed his spread knees together and promptly placed himself straddling the long thighs. After emptying his glass with a nonchalant swig and turning to place it on the table, he grinned at Loki.

"If you think I will be able to stay away from you dressed like that, you are sorely mistaken."

"If you think I want you to, then so are you." Loki emptied his own glass, handing it to Tony so he could place it next to his own.

Then Loki put his hands on Tony's hips and in a slow, determined movement pulled him closer, until the hardness of them both pressed together. Without the layers of thick leather between them, it was so much warmer and closer than it had been.

Loki felt his breath catch in his throat.

Tony was looking at him with dark eyes, and it was clear that the new sensation had not gone unnoticed on his part either.

"We're gonna end up ruining that poor suit, aren't we?"

"Fuck the suit."

Stark laughed. "You know what? I think that's the first four letter word I have ever heard out of you. And I like the sound of it."

"You do, do you?" Loki let his hands slide from the man's hips to his front, to work his pants open. He was getting better at it; buttons and zippers were hardly an obstacle anymore.

"For sure."

"Well, then." The long fingers moved in under the layers of clothing to reach skin, to follow it back to the hips and then continue. "I just might whisper something along the same lines in your ear." Fingers reaching Tony's ass, a couple of them dipping into the crevasse. "Later."

Tony drew in a breath at the touch, a breath that turned to a hiss as the fingers dipped deeper, pushing at him.

"That's... Pretty damn dirty."

"I am well aware."

"Don't stop."

"Oh, I won't."

"Now, there's a promise I actually believe you intend to keep."

And Loki did.

By the time Loki had worked his middle finger all the way inside, slowly, Tony was leaning on him, pushing his hips hard against him, seeking friction. As he, just as slowly, started moving that finger, Loki raised his other hand to get a firm grip on Stark's hair. He pulled the man's head back, so that he could look into his face.

"Get your hand on yourself. Pretend I am not here."

" _That's_ a pretty tall order, Lok'! And anyway, I'd prefer it if you -"

"Well, I won't."

"Afraid of getting your hands dirty?"

"I should say I already am. Now, do what I know you want to."

A barely audible whine escaped Stark, but then his hand found its way in between them. Loki kept his eyes on the man's face, still gripping his hair, but he could feel the movements when he freed himself of the garments and started stroking.

There was some hesitation in it. Only a small measure, but Loki noticed. He didn't think it was the act of stimulating himself, or even the fact he had been told to do it and obeyed. Loki suspected it was the fact that their eyes were still locked together, that Stark was very, painfully, aware of Loki seeing straight into him.

Loki still held his gaze for a few moments more. Then he let go of that handful of hair, placed his hand on the back of Tony's neck instead, and gently urged him forward, to lean his head against Loki's woolcovered shoulder. He could feel the man relaxing almost immediately, and Stark's hand getting steadier in it's stroking.

And Loki knew he had been right. The fact that he was out of his armour had not been enough to make Stark dismantle his own. But it didn't matter. There was a time for that as well.

But he could still remind Tony he knew how to find the cracks in that armour.

Loki began pushing in harder, to match the more intense stroking, finding the right angle, and turned his mouth to whisper in the man's ear.

"Just know that one day, it will not be my finger fucking you, Stark."

That was all it took.

Tony's breathless shout was half muffled by the shoulder he was leaning against. Loki could feel spots of wet seeping through his clothes, and smiled.

Slowly catching his breath, Tony sat back to look at Loki again.

"I... Guess I... Sort of did fuck the suit."

"So I noticed."

Stark looked down, and then Loki could feel his hand move. It settled over Loki's hard cock, gripping it through the fabric.

Loki took his hand from the man's neck, placing it over the other's and gently removing it. Pressing it to his chest instead. 

"No."

"You don't want me to?" Stark frowned, something worried flitting by in his eyes. "Why?"

"I stripped off the armour, Anthony. I still need something between me and the world. At least for a little while longer."

"So, it's not that...?"

Loki knew the unspoken words. "Was that the impression my actions gave you? Or my words?"

"Well. No."

"Then I did something right."

Stark grinned at that, at least. "Yeah, 'something'." He shrugged. "I just figured you should get something out of it too."

"I already did. What you had was enough."

Tony's eyes narrowed then, searching his face intently.

"How?" He sounded bewildered. "How are you the same fucking guy who didn't hesitate to throw me out a window to get his way less than, what, eight months ago?"

For a moment Loki was at a loss for words. Then he knew the answer.

"I'm not."


End file.
